Fugitive Telemetry (The Murderbot Diaries, #6)

by Martha Wells

Humans do the “make it a question so it doesn’t sound so bad” thing and it still sounds bad.

They don’t want me. (Hey, I don’t want me, either, but I’m stuck with me.)

the humans on the Station wouldn’t have to think about what I was, a construct made of cloned human tissue, augments, anxiety, depression, and unfocused rage, a killing machine for whichever humans rented me, until I made a mistake and got my brain destroyed by my governor module.

Mensah’s really smart, she can sort-of bribe me and tell Indah to fuck off simultaneously.

I just realized I don’t like the phrase “as far as I knew” because it implies how much you actually don’t know. I’m not going to stop using it, but. I don’t like it as much anymore.

Possibly I should just stop complaining like a human and get on with it.

“You are the most paranoid person I’ve ever met, and I’ve worked in criminal reform for twenty-six years.”

Sneaking the endangered humans off the ship to safety and then leaving the hostiles for someone else to deal with, that was a SecUnit plan, that was what we were really designed for, despite how the company and every other corporate used us. The point was to retrieve the clients alive and fuck everything else. Maybe I’d been waiting too long for GrayCris to show up and try to kill us all. I was thinking like a CombatUnit, or, for fuck’s sake, like a CombatBot.